


MacCready

by Heavydirtys0ul



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-27 07:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15680907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/Heavydirtys0ul
Summary: MacCready's life in a series of one shots that build up a bigger story.Each title will be based on a song, that I feel fits, so feel free to listen to them as you read.





	1. My Name Is Human

**Author's Note:**

> My Name is Human- Highly Suspect

_"Get up off your knees boy,_

_stand face to face with your God_

_find out who you are,"_

* * *

His hands scrabbled desperately through the dirt, picking up bits of rubble as he goes. There's blood on his hands, a small boy whimpers in his arms "It's okay," He hushes in a rough voice, trying to keep himself steady as he surges forward, ripping wood off the door in a slight of pure adrenaline, he kicks down the rest of it and surges forward into the light, legs carrying him as fast as he could, one hand holding a pistol and the other carrying a boy no older than three years of age. There's blood on his hands. It's not his, it's not Duncan's. He falls to his knees, the adrenaline wearing off now they had reached safety. A sob wracked his entire body as the child, Duncan, wraps his arms around his father's neck, sobbing gently. 

The love his life was dead. 

"We have to go home Duncan, we have to go back home, we're not safe here," They had been traveling to the Commonwealth, much to his chagrin, to seek out a man in Diamond City who knew his weaponry to better protect their farm. Less than halfway there, he didn't find the strength to keep going now. Not that his home was any better now that Lucy lay miles away from him, in her own blood. The child looked up at him with wide blue eyes, blinking with tears. 

"What about mummy?" The strings of his heart snapped one by one as he tried to think of a response, but no excuses came to a mind clouded by grief; he couldn't evn close his eyes by the fear of seeing her body ripped to pieces on the floor, bleeding radiation and her face morphed into terror as she calls out his name. The last words she ever spoke. His son whines impatiently, tugging at his father's hair with trembling hands. "Where's mummy?"

"She's gone, kid, I'm sorry, but mummy isn't coming back," The child lets out a cry that shakes the sand of the ground beneath their feet, clearly enraged and devastated by the news, the child shrieks and cries until his face is red and eyes are puffy, repeating the same words over and over. MacCready himself, felt like he ought to do the same but his son came first, and his son needed him. "It's okay kid, I'm still here," He scoops the boy up cradles him to his shoulder, wincing as Duncan's tiny fists landed on his chest, kicking up a fuss. 

"I want mummy," he cries over and over, the insistent woes of a child that believed if he asked enough he could get what he wanted. That his mother truly would come back because he screamed for her, like she always did. But this time, that just would not happen, he would scream and scream and there was no way for her to appear. MacCready, helpless, just hugged the child until he had exhausted himself. Weakly, he muttered "Mummy," from his lips, until he was too tired to do even that. Heartbroken, the man screwed his eyes shut to hold back tears as he buried his face in the child's hair. 

"I'm going to look after you kid, you'll get a good life, I promise,"

Was this a test by some sick twisted God? Was this all a bad dream? He hauled himself to stand on his feet, the child in one arm, gun in the other with eyes flashing dangerously n the low light. He barely felt like a person, confusion, anger, melancholia, all mixing together in some dangerous cocktail that whirred beneath his brain. His wife was dead. There's blood on his hands. He has to protect Duncan. 

 


	2. Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't remember the last time he caught his breath, from one thing to another, he knew he couldn't stay here now.

_Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked_   
_Money don't grow on trees_   
_I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed_   
_There ain't nothing in this world for free_

* * *

 

MacCready needed a job. There was only one job that the wasteland could offer him, and that involved sharp shooting and a whole lot of history that needed to be dug up. In the bed beside him, his son lay, coughing weakly with skin patched in blue. "You're gonna look after him, yeah?" He said softly, eyes watering as his hands lay on the barrel of his gun. "You promise me, until I can find the cure, you'll do your best?" He looks up at the face of his friend, a boy-a man- younger than him, but in this world aging happens faster than anyone would like. He was a sweet boy, raised his younger sister and had tended to his sick father before he'd passed away, ran a shop half a mile away from the farm that MaCready lived on. 

"He's in safe hands Robert, I'll give him all the care he needs, be safe out there, don't get yourself wound up in some bad stuff again, I'll be here waiting when you're ready," The mercenary stood on shaky legs, sliding the gun through some leather straps and slinging it onto his back. He lowers his hat over his teary eyes and rests a hand on the teenager's shoulder with a nod. 

"I'll be alright kid,"

The outside world was soaked in hot sun, beating off his long duster as it blew in the timid wind. He wiped the sweat off his brow as his leather boots hit the dusty road, the silence and thudding of boots his only company in the toasted wasteland. He knew where he was heading, to a little town in the commonwealth, ran by a ghoul who was happy for a hired gun to set up shop. No questions asked, the price of living low, and all weirdos welcome. Goodneighbor. The travel would take days, but he knew the commonwealth always needed people like him, and enough caps could find him the help he needed now. 

He needed to help Duncan. His only family. His only son. The only thing left of Lucy that he could hold dear onto. That a small wooden soldier that he grasped in his pocket whilst he traveled. His sniffled, ' _goddammit MacCready get it together'_ He felt tired of being alive the moment his dear wife's cold hand slipped through his own, but for his son and his son alone would he continue living, to cure him, to raise him, to love him with a heart that ran almost cold. He sighed gently into the air, the heat almost unbearable even in the setting sun. He opened his bag to run a mental checklist of what he had. He'd have to set up camp soon that was for sure, it was getting too dark to continue traveling. 

Just before the sunset, he found a wrecked shack, deserted with stale food, but it would do for the night. He couldn't exactly sleep outside in the wild, but even in an enclosed shack, he felt nervous. The slightest noise had him reaching for his gun, and he fell asleep with it still clutched in his grasp. 

-

Goodneighbor was not a pretty place, it sure was prettier than the rest of the Commonwealth and beat sleeping outside fending off raiders that were for sure, but it was not all that aesthetically pleasing. Still, at least most of the buildings were still intact, unlike the sanity of it's people. He found a place to set up shop in a small room attached to a club ran by a battered robot that had an overtly eccentric British accent. The beer tasted like shit, the people kept to themselves and he waited until the jobs started coming.

He only had two rules: No kids and no pregnant women. That was the height of his morality.  Most births didn't survive this climate anyway, kids being born with pieces missing or too many pieces, it was a sad climate, but he had his rules and they were rules his clients would abide by. Most of it was usual shit; chem dealers doing away with clients that cheapskated them, shitty partners doing away with their whores before their partner found out. Each time he pulled the trigger he had to stifle the guilt that rose through his veins. His heart was behind brick walls now, in this job it was all you could do. 

Until he walked in.

 


	3. Bury Me Face Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maccready meets the Sole Survivor, who employs him on a single mission; to find his son.

_"I've been on the run, since I was a boy,_

_But now I'm done running,_

_got another thing coming,"_

_\--_

"Why don't you take your girlfriend and get out of here?"

Gunners. The worst mistake of MacCready's life thus far. He takes a gulp of his ~~pisswater~~ beer with eyes narrowed at the two men who tried to stand intimidatingly over him; but not an ounce of fear ran across his face no matter how much his insides shivered in the face of these men. Another man stands in the doorway, tall with leather covering his lean build and spiked pads covering parts of his body. A gas mask is push back from his face revealing a long scar over his eye with the slightest hints of jet black hair hanging down from underneath it. He's studying both MacCready and the men with calculated intent as he chews the inside of his cheek studiously. The sharpshooter brings his attention back to the men who are hissing something in their rage induced dialogue and it takes everything in the man not to just say " _Fuck off,_ " They turn, swaggering out of the door with anger in their eyes that resembled a wildfire. 

He turns his gaze too the newcomer who watches the two gunners leave with dead stillness, not even his breathing seemed visible. "Look pal, if you've come here preaching about the Atom or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy, if you need a hired gun...then maybe we can talk," he scoops a packet of cigarettes off the table with his eyes never leaving the other's.

"Maybe," The dark haired man's voice was deep and yet somehow soft, a challenging air surrounding him like a storm cloud waiting to erupt. "Why don't you tell me who those guys were first," He leans up off the wall, thick leather boots hitting the rough floor in a gentle mimic of thunder. MacCready studies him for a second, taking in the holstered handguns and the rifle crudely slung to his back and assessing his demeanor in seconds, trying to grasp what he can from the newcomer. 

"A couple of morons looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on the way up," he finally drawls out, standing up. "You shouldn't be surprised though, that's how it goes when you run with the gunners," 

The newcomer stands very still, eyes narrowed, and MacCready can feel his intestines twist just a little; it's not judgement in his eyes, but quiet, calm, dangerous questions flicker across his face with every emotion known to man. It would've been comical if it wasn't terrifying; one thing was for sure, however, this man was not a fan of the gunners. After a long silence finally he spoke "I'm interested," there's a dry pause. MacCready smirks and brings a cigarette up to his lips, flicking the cigarette carton onto the top. 

"250 caps, up front and non negotiable,"

"Everything's negotiable, how about 200?" There's a static pause, giving the taller man a second to digest he'd even been challenged, eyebrow raised and mouth slightly ajar with the cigarette hanging gently off his bottom lip. 

"You drive a hard bargain, but you just bought yourself an extra gun," He brings the lighter too his cigarette and holds out a hand which the other man takes in his in a firm shake. 

\--

His name, as it turns out, was Sulpher, and there was much doubt on whether that was his real name or not but it barely mattered at the time it was told. He was a quick thinker and hands on sort of man, one finger always on a trigger and the other on a cigarette. At first it was simple things, MacCready could tell he was getting a feel for him and how he worked and how good he was but those weren't words he could bring himself to say. A few raiders here and there, half wit super mutants threatening settlements and an introduction to a man named Preston who handed out errands like it was his day job. Then finally, the real job came through. "I need your help," There's a stagnant silence "I need your help to find my son,"

MacCready almost drops his cigarette, and he feels his stomach clench with the words. His blood ran cold for just a second _'what's the chances?'_ he thinks to himself _'two men trying to save their sons run into each other whilst shooting people dry,_ ' His eyes drop to the floor and he wants to say it wants to talk about Duncan, wants to break the silence with his own worries. But he was just a hired gun, that wasn't his job. 

"You paid me boss, I'm here to do my job," 

"This isn't going to be easy, it's why I looked for extra help in the first place, because I've reached a point where I can't go alone, from here on out I can't guarantee anything will be easy or safe," There's silence and MacCready would almost think he _cared_. But Sulpher was not a man who cared, in fact he had not pinned him as a father up until now. The man with dark hair always struck the mercenary as a cold, silent killer who sought to kill open request. When MacCready tried to speak, his throat felt dry and the blood in his ears seemed to make them ache. He missed Duncan. 

"I'll help you get your son back, and I'm not leaving until you have him back,"

 


	4. Blood // Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready embarks on a quest with Sulpher, to track down a man named Kellogg.

_"We'll never get free, lamb to the slaughter,_  
 _what're you gonna do when there's blood in the water?_  
 _The price of your_ greed, _is your son and your daughter,_  
 _what're you gonna do when there's blood in the water?"_

_\--_

Whatever MacCready was expecting, it was not this. Cleaning blood off his gun, he spat on the cold metal floor. "I sure as f-hell hope this detective _can_ help," He muttered, poking dead bodies at his feet to check the seven or eight .308's he'd shot through their chest had **quite** done the trick. The mechanical clinking behind him made him jump, reminding him f the synth's presence; so far he didn't like this man with his piercing yellow eyes and peeling skin. He certainly didn't like his ability to just sneak up on you either. "Let's get out of here if I see one more gang-related ghoul I'm gonna flip," 

The trek back to Diamond City was somewhat uneventful, traveling in a calm silence as his boots dragged through the dirt in tune with him yawning against the night's sky. It had been a long day, even longer than running around taking out raider gangs for the price of bread. Diamond City had never been a home for him, it was a place made to mimic the American Dream long after such a white picket life could be achieved, a load of people pretending to be happy as their friends and family disappeared. At least in Goodneighbor they actually took action against synths appearing out of nowhere...in a very public demonstration sort of way. 

But Diamond City was too cozy, too happy, too lively, although the beer was nicer, he'll at least give them that. At this time of the night, anywhere with walls is somewhere he'd call home for the night. Sulpher barely looked tired, not that he could see the man's face from under the hooded assault gas mask that covered his face and filtered out the radiation. Sometimes Mac liked to think that he was not a man at all, but some form of robot or statue that only pretended it was alive. He didn't express many emotions for a man searching for his kidnapped son. 

The moment they walked through the gates, MacCready was sliding into the market and desperately throwing money out to the robot behind the counter. "Nani ni shimasu ka?" MacCready nods, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. 

"Yes Taka, yes please," He hadn't a clue how to use chopsticks but he tried anyway, desperate to throw some kind of food down his stomach. He almost heard a chuckle from Sulpher, but it was stifled as fast as it escaped, the sharpshooter offered a smile anyway before tipping the remaining noodles down his gullet. Valentine shook his head at the two of them "My office is this way if Mr. MacCready has quite finished stuffing his face?" The words sounded soft, harmless, almost lighthearted, coming from a man who was also part machine. 

"You got it detective," he treads behind the two of them listening to them talk. Their conversation is somewhat hushed, whether it's MacCready they don't want to hear it or others in the vicinity, he doesn't know for sure. The eyebots play the radio around them and he stares into them with no particular interest until he gets an unsettling feeling that something may be on the other end of them, at this realization he quickens his pace to catch up with Sulpher and Nick with the tune of "Rocket 69" fading away as he walks away. 

-

Nick and Sulpher ask him to stay in the agency as they go to check out an abandoned house in the stalls of Diamond City. "Wait here," he still heard the curt voice of his employer as the door slammed shut, leaving behind dust and an eerie silence. A young woman, whose name he couldn't recall for the life of him, smiled awkwardly and offered him a drink. "Unless it's alcoholic, I'm not all that sure I'll need it," He smiles to show he's joking for the most part "I don't suppose I could take a nap though, I'm exhausted," She smiles and gestures to the ladders "Thanks," 

It's small upstairs, but enough for this humble wasteland they all live in. He kicks off his boots and sinks into the hard mattress, eyes fluttering closed within minutes. 

\--

He's awoken by barking, forcing his eyes open he is met face to face with a large German Shepherd who is sniffing him curiously. Past it, he can see the barely sighted face of his employer, grinning. "Dogmeat, meet MacCready, MacCready, meet Dogmeat," the mercenary sat up warily as the dog tilts his head as if waiting for some sort of response from him. He reaches out slowly and pets his head, being rewarded with an excitable bark. "Dogmeat here is going to help us track down Kellogg, or at least I hope so, hope you slept well, by the way, you were out like a rock when I got here," Mac is almost taken aback by the slight change in demeanor, causing a small smile on Sulpher's face. "Let's go kill a merc...a different one," 

He didn't miss a trick as the other snuck a Stimpak off the table into his pocket, he didn't say a word, but smirked anyway. 

\--

Dogmeat liked to run, MacCready didn't enjoy running, especially not with junk slung in a bag off one shoulder and a sniper rifle hanging off the other. He must've complained at least twice "Don't make me carry all that junk!" but Sulpher simply raised a brow and replied with various snarky comments each time. The road was long, and not easy terrain, climbing up the side of hills and steps wasn't easy in the scorching heat on a good day, but even less so when wearing a tattered leather duster and two heavy shoulder-bearing items. Eventually, he had little energy left to complain in the first place. 

He pockets some of the leftover Cigars that Sulpher no longer needed, for later when he could rest after the long days work if he managed to rest after all of this. They scavenge meat off dead wasteland animals that they pick at along the way (Hounds, Yao Gui, Bloatfly, Bloodbug) and cook them in a small campfire under a tunnel for a five-minute break. 

 

The heat started to simmer down as the sun started setting, and Dogmeat rested outside a building wall, from here, MacCready could see four turrets, and he didn't dare begin to ponder the security inside. "Good boy," He muttered, kneeling down and ruffling his fur before tossing him some bloodbug steak "What you say we give Dogmeat a rest and pay Kellogg a little visit?" He knows there's a little spark in his eyes, that little bloodthirsty glint that rises up above his normal killing streak to feed his slight sadistic want to watch blood drain from a man who deserves it. 

This man stole a child and killed that child's mother. That was too close to his own cold heart for him not to want to pull a trigger. Sulpher catches the look and nods, pulling his gas mask over his face "Let's get this bastard,"

 

 

 


	5. Hold on til May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kellogg is expecting them.

_"And as the sun went down,_

_We ended up on the ground,_

_And as the train shaked the windows,_

_We screamed over the sound_ ,"

\--

The inside of this place was cold, the stone walls echoed with a sense of aching and MacCready had to stop and wonder how many lives had this man taken? How many families had he devastated? How many children will never see their fathers again because of this man? His hand ached against the trigger of his gun and his jaw clenched as he thought of Duncan, the anger and fear at the thought of anyone taking his boy away from him made his heart burn with bloodlust. He advanced forward, watching Sulpher in front of him as they advanced. 

So far they had taken care of the outside, taken out a few machine guns and looted some food and ammo off some other poor bastard that lay dead outside. Now it was just them, the dark and whatever the hell waited for them on the other side.  The younger man felt every sound they made in his bones, every crunch of the gravel underneath him and clink of his ammo belt. His weapon was clutched between his hands like a shield as he advanced into the maze ahead of him, his employer, friend, protection stepped ahead of him, rifle in hand. It wasn't too long after they had advanced he heard mechanical whirring, the robotic voice of a synth. Silently, he bit down on his lip and brought the rifle up to his view. The movement he saw movement, he fired. These gen 1's didn't take much to 'die' and they were hardly a challenge in 1's and 2's but he doubted Kellogg would employ minor security. A low exhale from his lungs rattled like a hurricane in his ears, dead silence and then, gunfire. 

MacCready was generally a man with his wits about him, he could handle himself and he could handle a gun, usually both at the same time. He didn't have a list of morals to protect him and he certainly was not afraid of a few bullets. But these were not men he was fighting. These were robots, programmed to protect and destroy with no feeling, no care, no fear of death, only impulse. His breath shuddered in his lungs as he fired shot after shot. These things were so fast, he could barely keep a steady hand. But he continued as he fired until there were no more remaining. For the first time in his life, he considered he may not actually make it out of this alive. In his pocket, he clutched a small, wooden toy soldier and stared into the darkness before he was shaken out of his trance by his companion. "Are you okay?" he heard the words but only nodded his head before emptying the guns around him of their ammo.

The corridors were endless, the synths were in a similar state, barely a second passed where there weren't more and as his energy started to run low he searched his bag for a drink, throwing down some water as they paused for a second. The good part was that it seemed the synths had designated patrol areas and would not detect them until they were in that area. Convenient. "I'd kill for a cigarette," he muttered with a hollow laugh, "God this bastard has some tight security," Sulpher returned a dry grin as he reloaded his gun, two pistols tucked into a belt at his hips as a backup. They advanced, each section becoming more and more difficult and MacCready losing more and more stamina, and faith. He stared at the dead synths at his feet and closed his eyes. If he died here, he'd never get to say goodbye to Duncan, who would wait for his father to return until he died of whatever sickness had taken him. His eyes shot open and his heart rate increased, pumping adrenaline through his veins. He had to survive for Duncan's sake. He plowed forward gun ready, advancing onto the next room. 

The sound of an automatic pistol resounded the empty corridors. 

He fell down, shouting out in pain.

Blood.

Sulpher charged forward, spraying bullets like hellfire at the advancing synths in the darkness, only the light from weapons firing illuminating the hallway. He heard his name being shouted, the words 'hold on' pounding through his brain. His entire arm had gone limp and with his free hand, he scrambled around looking for his gun in the darkness. Never before had he felt as powerless as he did in this very moment. The sound of weapons firing stopped and Sulpher's gun fell beside him as the other man scrambled for a Stimpak, pushing the needle straight into his veins and withdrawing it in one fluid motion. The pain eased up, slowing motion regained to his arm. "You're not dying on me yet," He heard the other man mutter "I've enough blood on my hands,"

MacCready stumbled too his knees, clambering up until he was standing, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "I've no intentions of dying on you either," The two men stood in silence as Sulpher handed MacCready his gun, resting against the cold wall. The elder brought up his Pip-Boy, assumedly scanning the immediate surroundings. 

"We're close, are you okay to keep going?" His eyes looked almost black in the darkness, before MacCready nodded, turning his attention back to the Pip-Boy. 

"You lead, I follow, that's how this works, right?"


End file.
